118th Ave. in Edmonton doesn’t have the best reputation. It’s rough. It’s tumble. It has a history of violence and prostitution. This is all changing. There are still remnants of it, but 118th is morphing towards progress.

We live near 118th (also known as Alberta Ave.), so it is a part of our community. I take the little hoser on walks up and down 118th as much as I can. He will need to know the people, the shops and how to be comfortable there.

Last night there was a shooting near the Abbotsfield Mall which is a t-shirt cannon’s blast away from the homestead. You can read the CBC story here.

It happened in my community. My family’s community. We have set roots here. Junior will love his birthplace.

While walking down 118th today, I came across three very big, very tough looking guys. Openly drinking/tear-drop face tattoo type tough. I had the little man strapped to my chest during this walk, so I waved to the fellows and said “Hi”.

As I passed, my spawn let loose a happy screech at them that was the gleeful combination of an eagle attack and the dying squeal of ghosts. This set these three chaps giggling and laughing with surprise. I heard one of them say, “That’s a cute little fucker right there.”

Sometimes little humans bring out the best in everyone. They embody joyous hope. They make you smile. They transcend race and social/financial status. No matter who, or where, you are.

My son teaches me things every day.